


Ghosts

by ko_writes



Series: The Stewardess [8]
Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: ACD Canon References, Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, Arthur Shappey is a saint, Carolyn is not happy, Crying, Disabled Character, Douglas has a great right hook, Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, F/M, Flashbacks, Flora control your friends, Fluff, Mycroft isn't coping, Paternal Carolyn, Paternal Douglas, Paternal Mycroft, Permanent Injury, Protective Mycroft, Reunions, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 10:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4056103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ko_writes/pseuds/ko_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flora is back in England, in Fitton, but in hospital. MJN are there too.</p><p>This could all go so wrong...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts

   Flora was happier back in Fitton. Mycroft sat at her bedside like a guard dog, and Sherlock was back in London.

   The doctors were examining her leg; she had most of the movement, but it couldn't support her weight. She was going to need a brace to walk.

   "A knee brace isn't the end of the world," Mycroft told her calmly, "It could have been worse."

   Flora nodded, still frowning at the scratchy hospital bedding. "Why did it take so long?" She asked. Mycroft said he'd get her out as soon as she or anyone at MJN were in trouble; and he'd left it for four and a half months.

   "Anthea kept information from me due to a conflict in the Middle East," Mycroft informed, "She's been fired."

   "Oh, Mycie," Flora sighed, "Why us? Why do these things hang over our heads? Why won't they go away?" Flora questioned, slumping into the pillows.

   Mycroft looked in her eyes and it was like she was five again, asking why Mr Holmes hit them. Mycroft took a breath, "Sometimes, being raised... how we were... I've heard of it deciding to stay, hanging in the air like the stench of rotting dead. We are also Holmes'; you might not share the surname, but you are every bit like your mother. Jubilee was beautiful, street smart and bright, but she was in a dangerous occupation and so was your father."

   "I wish I could have known them better," Flora sighed.

   "You knew they loved you, that's more than enough in most cases," The corner of Mycroft's mouth twitched, "You have friends who love you. And while the stench of what's long dead will never quite go away, they do help. Or so I'm told."

   "And I have you... Dad," Flora smiled gently.

   Mycroft's vision blurred and he stroked a hand gently through the short tufts of Flora's hair.

   The door opened and the tap of well made shoes travelled across the ugly floor of the private room. "So, M-Ms... Ms Jones; I -"

   Flora looked up and stopped breathing. No, no, no! All wrong! No!

   Douglas Richardson stood there, in bright nurse's scrubs, eyes focused on her chart.

   "S-sorry," Douglas... stuttered, "I-I knew someone called F-Flora Jo-"

   Douglas looked up from her chart. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open, the chart cluttered to the floor and he had to brace himself on the wall. There she was... But she couldn't be! She'd died! She was buried!

   "I think I have some explaining to do..." Flora almost whispered.

   "More information being withheld," Mycroft growled, snapping his head away to stare at the corner.

   "F-Flora..." Douglas gulped, "H-how? How!?"

   "Douglas, it's alright," Flora soothed, "I'm here."

   "But you can't be!" Douglas roared, "And if you are here, alive, then what the fuck is wrong with you?!"

   "What?" Flora squeaked.

   "You pretend to _die_ , and you just leave; no contact, no 'I'm actually alive, don't kill yourselves' -"

   "You're acting as if I went on holiday!" Flora snapped, "I really didn't!"

   "Then what?!" Douglas seethed.

   "Mr Richardson -"

   "Wait..." Douglas gasped, "You were at the funeral! Mycroft Holmes!"

   "Yes," Mycroft nodded. He was doing his best with the yelling, but Douglas was beginning to sound like -

   "Did you... Did you know?!" Douglas fumed, taking a step towards the government official.

   Mycroft flinched and leapt out of the chair. "Yes, but -"

   Douglas growled, pulling his fist back, and punched Mycroft in the nose with a sickening crack.

   "No!" Flora yelled, "No, no, no!"

   "Flora?" Douglas inquired, looking towards her. Flora's finger's were trying to tug at the sort tufts of her hair.

   "Mycie, Mycie no..." She babbled.

   Douglas took a step towards her cousin, hand outstretched to help him up, but Mycroft flinched and uttered a small whimper, eyes cast somewhere else, "Father, no."

   At that moment, Douglas stilled. That whimper, 'father, no', was one that he'd heard from that little child in paediatrics, the one who was now going to live with a foster parent.

   Flora was openly weeping, babbling between 'Mycie' and 'leave him alone'.

   "Flora -"

   "Get out..." Flora whispered. Douglas complied, he had to talk to Carolyn... 


End file.
